


Steal You Away

by ofwyrmsandguns



Category: Elder Scrolls
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-25
Updated: 2020-01-25
Packaged: 2021-02-19 08:26:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22408153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ofwyrmsandguns/pseuds/ofwyrmsandguns
Summary: Zirain's the sole survivor of an attack on his Dunmer village by an Argonian force. He's trying to figure out his life, but at least he has a new friend to help him with it.





	Steal You Away

**Author's Note:**

> These two are some of my favourite OCs, I wanted to finally put them in a fanwork and write out and finalise how they met. This is an original story set in the elder scrolls universe taking place in roughly 4E 150 and is the first stepping stone to me hopefully writing out more stories with some of my other TES OCs (who are all linked to these two)

The dark grove served well as a boundary between the lands. On one side the land was ashy and dead, without a sign of life for miles. On the other side, the swamps started, as dark and as deadly as the people within them. The thickening woods had acted as a no-man's land for eras; before, it was rumoured to be filled with Dunmer, seeking easy picking for new Argonian slaves. Now the Argonians used it as an elven hunting ground, slaughtering any non-lizard folk and decorating the boarder with their heads.

Zirain averted his eyes from those that stood there now, fearing a familiar face among them.

They'd thought they were far enough away from the border, in an area too dry for the Argonians to attack. But they'd been so very wrong. They'd came in the night, dragging people from their homes, staining the ash red with blood from severed throats. Had Zirain not hidden when he'd heard the war cries, in the basement where he'd been locked away for the night, he would have been joining the dust too.

But like a coward he had hid, to emerge the next morning to a dead village. Dead bodies rotted in the sun, drag marks showed where the Argonians had taken back prizes to decorate their border. No food, tools or weapons had been taken; this was a show of strength, not a search for supplies.

It wasn't even a military outpost, it was a farming village.

Zirain was the sole survivor, when he knew he shouldn't have been. There were children who deserved that honour more, charitable neighbours, his long suffering parents, but no. The no good, thieving teen had survived, but not for long. He took a deep breath.

And stepped into the grove.

It was a rush, to walking so brazenly into an area forbidden for so long, to feel the dry ground become damp, then soggy underfoot. The tree branches knitted together more and more the deeper he went. Whatever death awaited him, he hoped it would be quick.

Strange insects buzzed by his ears, telling him he must be close to the marshes now. The fruit in the trees looked alien, all sharp edges and bright colours; he had no idea if it was poisonous or not. A pair of red eyes stared at him from between the tree trunks.

Zirain leapt back in shock, the red eyes widening too. The reptilian look to them told him he'd finally met an Argonian. But the desire to die had abandoned him as he quickly scurried backwards, tripping over tree trunks in his haste, winding himself against the floor. The eyes had disappeared, but Zirain couldn't catch his breath, never mind run away.

The eyes returned, lower than before, accompanied by a soft clicking. They got closer and closer, Zirain desperately tried to scramble backwards, his breath coming out in ragged gasps, only for the eyes to halt.

The owner was more visible now; a short, possibly young, Argonian with dark red scales, wearing bear minimal clothing and armed only with a short sword that lie firmly at its hip. It was holding out one of the foreign fruits, clicking and grunting quietly.

When Zirain didn't move, the Argonian bent down to the floor and rolled the fruit over to him, before backing off slightly. Zirain picked up the fruit in confusion, while the Argonian started to mime eating it.

“I don't know if I can.” Zirain said. The Argonian tilted its head. “It might be poisonous.” The Argonian didn't react. “Don't you speak Tamriellic?”

The Argonian simply grunted some more in response and slowly edged forward. Zirain watched it carefully as it held out a hand to him, not as if to shake them but more presenting it. When Zirain didn't flinch away the hand moved and gently stroked his hair, the Argonian croaking in a way that almost seemed pleased. Zirain suddenly realised what was going on.

“You think I'm a wild animal, don't you?” He groaned. The Argonian kept petting him as if to confirm it. Maybe it had never seen a living Dunmer before; he'd probably have thought the same of the Argonian had their roles been reversed. For now, it was actually pretty nice to be pet.

But suddenly it stopped, instead turning to look deeper into the marshes. Zirain jumped to his feet, fearing the worst, only to have it confirmed when the Argonian threw its arms into the air, growling and hissing. Trying to scare him away. He didn't need telling twice.

He legged it out of the forest, not turning back to check if he was being followed, only stopped when he reached his house, locking his front door and hiding under his covers, and only realising when he started to nod off that he still had the fruit he'd been gifted.

/////////////////////////////////

The next few days were filled with burials and cleaning as Zirain tried to give those that had died the respect they deserved. Passing travellers would help out in exchange for using one of the empty bed for the night. It was slow, thankless work that tore apart Zirain every day, but at least he didn't have to see the slowly decomposing bodies any more.

The red Argonian intrigued him. He'd only ever heard stories of the lizard-folk, he'd never actually met one, and this Argonian subverted everything he'd been taught. The force pushing it on wasn't some chaotic evil, always seeking blood entity; it had seen a strange new animal in its marsh and its immediate instinct was to befriend it. A desire to meet the Argonian again burned within Zirain. But his duties to the fallen and the knowledge that the Argonian's family was probably the reason he was burying his own kept him away.

At least for a few days.

When he'd finally mustered the courage to cross the grove again, this time with less bravado and a lot more caution, he didn't travel empty handed. He wanted to show the Argonian that he was as sentient as it was, and brought a cooked fish as a gift. Only after his shoes were soaked did he realise he had no way to find the Argonian again; his only lead was to head back to where they'd met before and hope for the best.

He eventually found himself by a small pond, the lizard sat among the roots of the nearby trees very recognisable. Zirain lifted his hand to wave.

“Hello again.” He called out. The Argonian fell into the water in surprise, righting itself quickly and drawing its blade. Zirain backed off, his empty hands held up in surrender. “Woah, steady. It's me, remember? From the other day?”

The Argonian hadn't learnt any Tamriellac in the few days since they'd first met, but the soft grunting it made and the sheathed sword told Zirain it did remember him. Zirain approached a little cautiously, but the Argonian quickly began petting his head again.

Zirain pulled the fish out of his bag, holding it out to the Argonian. “Here. In exchange for the fruit.” The Argonian looked at it quizzically, sniffing it in Zirain's hands. “It's a fish, it's cooked.” Zirain mimed eating it like the Argonian had done before, then handed it to them.

The Argonian stared at it a moment, sitting on the tree roots once more. Zirain remained standing, not wanting to soak his clothes.

“It's a fish.” Zirain repeated. “Fish.”

“Ish?” The Argonian replied, clearly trying to repeat the word.

“Fish.” Zirain repeated, pointing to his lips. “Fi-ish”

“Fish.” The Argonian replied. Their tail flicked a little. “Fish. Fish.” Then it started loudly grunting once more, before swallowing the fish in one.

////////////////////////////////

They had sat by the water for a while before the Argonian had left, still repeating the word fish as they went. Zirain travelled to the nearest town the next day, partly to restock, partly to see if there were any books he could steal to help with his new friendship. He considered telling the guards about the attack, if they hadn't already heard about it, but stopped. The only Argonian near the border at the minute was the red-scaled one, and Zirain didn't want the guards thinking they were a threat.

Instead he found a handy translation guide that could help them communicate at least. He hadn't realised their language, Jel as he now knew it to be called, sounded to other races like unintelligible grunts. He'd thought himself daft for speaking to the Argonian despite the language barrier, but clearly they spoke even more.

When he finally crossed into Black Marsh again, book in his bag, it was with considerably more confidence than before. He'd been practising some phrases and when he finally saw the familiar red tail, he waved and called out a greeting. His friend startled, and stared at him incredulously. Zirain repeated it, and his friend repeated it back, cautiously. It was a fairly straightforward word to repeat at least, Zirain dreaded some of the others he'd read. He sat on a rock while his friend joined him, looking slightly confused. Zirain pulled out the book, and tried to ask his friend how he was.

They stared at him in utter bafflement (maybe he was mangling it?) before they snatched the book away, flicking through the pages. The translations had some strange text beside them, apparently written in Jel if the book was to be believed. Whether or not his friend could read was another matter.

“It... is... wet.” They finally said, their tail flicking slightly. They turned to Zirain. “It is... wet.” They repeated. It sounded croaky, and they finished it with a grunt, but Zirain grinned at them and slowly tried to attempt to read it out in Jel too, his friend shaking with laughter. They read the book together for an hour, reading out any phrase that caught their eye, forgetting to go about it in any logical way, before his friend chased him off again. Neither of them had improved, and Zirain realised only once at home that they still hadn't learned each other's names, but he no longer cared.

Because his friend had called him friend too.

///////////////////////////

An awful caterwaul jolted Zirain out of sleep one night, echoing from the village centre. It continued, darting from house to house, pounding on doors, loud enough to wake the recently dead. Zirain crept to the window, peered outside, and almost fell back in shock.

It was his friend! Across the border in Morrowind and desperately yelling and slamming on every door. Pausing only to put on shoes, Zirain flew out the door to meet him.

“What's wrong?” Zirain asked. He had yet to figure out all the ways his friend expressed their self but there was no mistaking the terror in their eyes when they turned to face him.

“Fish!” His friend yelled, running up and grabbing his arm before jabbering on again, quick and panicked. They tried to pull Zirain away, but he stood still in shock. His friend just pulled harder, more desperately.

“I don't understand.” Zirain said, tilting his head and hoping his friend understood the gesture. His friend, still grunting away, pointed at their self, then towards the grove, then to the floor, then dragged a finger across their neck, then finally pointed at Zirain. The meaning was horrifically clear. The Argonians were coming to kill him.

Still his friend tugged at his hand, trying to pull him away from the grove, to run to safety. Zirain knew the way to the nearest settlement, and knew enough about it to not bring his friend there. Instead Zirain indicated that he was going to run West, towards Cyrodiil. It was as good a plan as any, there was nothing left for him here anyway.

His friend gripped his hand tighter before running in the direction Zirain had pointed as they fled the only lands they'd ever known together, ears pricked for any sound of their pursuants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to assure you that the Argonian does have a name, Zirain is just a bit of a dolt and forgot to ask them what it is.
> 
> Also the reason why the Argonian is apparently so confused by Zirain talking is because they genuinely think Zirain is practically a dog. If you saw a stray dog, then one day it brought you a cooked fish, then it came up to you speaking your language, you'd probably be pretty confused too.


End file.
